


Show Not Tell

by OllyJay, whopooh



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Bodyswap, F/M, MFMM Year of Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 22:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllyJay/pseuds/OllyJay, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh
Summary: Unable to make their relationship work Jack and Phryne go their separate ways but the two best detectives in Melbourne soon find themselves involved in the same case.





	Show Not Tell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kanste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanste/gifts).



> So, Whopooh, Kanste and I were chatting about variations on the body swap theme and we got rather stuck on what they might learn about each other. And then the emoji with the fluttering eyelashes was used in an indiscriminate way with the end result that Whopooh and I jotted down a couple of the ideas that were being chucked around, strung some words between them and poured a generous serving of Phrack over the top. 
> 
> This is for Kanste to enjoy on the last day of her Staycation ❤️❤️❤️

SLAM

At the kitchen table polishing the silver Mr Butler looked towards the front door. He hazarded a guess that the person currently standing in the foyer swearing in… he tilted his head to listen… an excellent Collingwood accent, was Miss Fisher arriving home from her latest investigation with the Inspector. 

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP

Setting down the perfectly shined dinner fork he picked up a spoon and began polishing. The sound of her footsteps going up the staircase indicated Miss Fisher and the Inspector had had another argument. He sighed. It was difficult for two such independent people to accommodate each other in lives that, for so many years, had been entirely structured around their own wants. And so a significant amount of energy had been expended since their return from England knocking off the rough edges around their relationship. He only hoped that with those gone there would be something worth keeping.

The front door opened again and the person who stepped in this time closed it in a manner more conducive to the longevity of the hinges and glass inserts.

“Phryne, I didn’t mean…”

“I’m not particularly interested in what you meant Inspector and I would be grateful if you could remove yourself from my foyer.” 

Mr Butler could tell she was standing halfway up the stairs and imagined she was glaring in a very pointed manner at the man at the bottom.

“Don’t be like this Phr…”

“Will you stop telling me what to do! And while you’re at it – stop bloody presuming you know what I want better than I do! The fact that we are currently sleeping together does not endow you with the right to determine how I behave.”

“We are _currently_ sleeping together?”

Mr Butler placed the spoon back on the table. There was something about the Inspectors deceptively calm tone that made him uneasy, as though the man was holding on to his temper by the barest of strings. Miss Fisher’s next words made it clear she had also picked up on it.

“Jack, I didn’t mean…”

“No, you did mean it and I’m only surprised it’s taken so long for you to say it because it has been quite obvious to me since we came back that only one of us is in this relationship – the other is just passing time.”

The door opened again.

“So, I will do us all a favour by removing myself from both your foyer and your boudoir, Miss Fisher. Leaving you free to find someone else to sleep with.”

SLAM

“Jack!”

Mr Butler waited to hear whether she would follow him out. And waited. And waited. After a while he picked the spoon up again and continued his polishing. He would need to have a man in to check the door hinges and the putty around the glass.

*****

A month later the Inspector was hardly surprised to see Miss Fisher wander into the middle of his surveillance of a Fitzroy gangster. As he sat in the undercover vehicle watching an address of interest he recognised at once the woman in the blond wig and very far from couture dress. He cursed, even now if she asked he would go running back to her. But she wouldn’t ask because, having taken his words literally, she found someone else (well many someones) to sleep with. It was unlikely that between one exciting lover and the next, she would have time to remember a boring police officer that hadn’t been able to compromise.

She was in the house for twenty minutes before coming back out on the arm of one of most notorious gangsters in Melbourne. Jack swore under his breath as he watched her flutter her eyelashes and push her body invitingly into the side of the man he knew for a fact had killed at least six people in cold blood. Suddenly there was the sound of many cars approaching and Jack spun round to peer out the back window, tracking the cars as they pulled up in front of Phryne and her latest beau. Men poured out of the four vehicles, men in dark suits with guns. To his credit Phryne’s companion looked unfazed at becoming the target of eight weapons.

“Frankton? Wha’ game is this?” he drawled at the man that Jack recognised as another notorious gangster.

“It’s one you lose, Rogers.” The man looked at Phryne in a way that made Jack’s blood boil, though to be fair practically all men looked at her in a way that made his blood boil, which was the problem that they had been discussing that day at Wardlow. Or rather her reaction to the way men looked at her. He watched on as she demonstrated exactly what had upset him so much that day.

“Mr Frankton,” she fluttered her eye lashes at the new man, the one with the gun and therefore the power, pulling her body back from the man she was currently entangled with. “I don’t think we’ve met, I’m…”

“I know exactly who you are, Miss Fisher.”

Shit, Jack thought at exactly the same time as Phryne. He watched her ditch the fluttering lashes to look Frankton square in the eyes, which is probably why she didn’t notice the fist that was heading in her direction.

“You lying bitch!” Rogers yelled as he knocked her to the ground.

Jack was out of the car before he realised and before he had a plan. His only thought was to get to her before another blow fell. It was not the best thing he could have done because suddenly nine guns, Rogers had his gun out now too, were pointed directly at him.

“It’s that copper she’s always with! This is a sting. Rogers, you stupid bastard, you need to stop thinking with your cock.” Frankton was livid, clearly the police had formed no part of his plans for the evening.

Jack found himself stifling an ironic laugh because if there was anyone that description applied to – it was probably him. He looked at the woman who was slowly rising, her lip split and blood dribbling down her pale skin, she was confused – possibly concussed. And all he wanted to do was get to her. He held up his arms to show he was no threat. “I’ll just take the lady and we’ll leave you to your discussion,” he offered.

“I don’ think so, copper,” Rogers drawled in a way that Jack found particularly annoying. Could the man not enunciate his words properly? “In fact, I haven’ finished my discussion with ‘er but you’re welcome to watch as I do.”

Jack saw him turn his gun around and raise his arm to pistol-whip her. He could also see that she was still disorientated and unlikely to avoid what could prove a fatal strike. At the same time he knew his chances of getting to her with eight guns trained on him was slightly worse than zero. Still, he thought, he hadn’t really got anything planned for the rest of his life – and with that he threw himself forward determined to at least take some of the power out of the blow about to fall on the love of his life, or death, as the case may be.

*****

Jack opened his eyes slowly, blinking until they felt less like someone had been pouring sand into them. He tried to lift his head.

‘Keep still, Jack.”

He blinked, Phryne? He didn’t move because he assumed her warning was valid though this made it difficult to work out where she was. She sounded close but he couldn’t feel her against him. He closed his eyes and concentrated but even then he couldn’t hear her breathing.

“You can’t hear me breathing because we’re doing it at the same time.”

His eyes shot open, that was no figment of his imagination he could definitely hear her and she was very close.

“Jack, I need you to stay still and listen to me. If you understand blink twice.”

He blinked twice.

“You’re not going to be happy about what I tell you but you need to understand that there is a man in this room who has been instructed to shoot me, sorry us, if there’s any trouble. I’ve decided the way least likely to cause trouble is to be unconscious and so I have been lying here quietly and unmoving for twenty minutes. Blink twice if you understand why you need to not move.”

He blinked twice.

“Good. Well now we’ve got the easy bit out of the way.”

“We have?” Jack thought.

“Yes, unfortunately everything goes a bit down hill from here.”

“Hang on, how did you know what I was thinking?”

“I can hear you, Jack. The same way you’re hearing me now. It is rather interesting,” her voice trailed off and he heard a sound that was suspiciously like laughter.

“Are you laughing, Phryne? Is there something amusing that I have missed? Because lying here playing dead doesn’t seem overly funny to me, particularly as the line between pretending and being seems remarkably thin.”

“I adore your dry wit, Jack. It’s one of the things I’ve missed most this past month.”

Jack felt himself surrounded with a warm feeling of… of… he wasn’t sure exactly what it was but it made him feel… Happy? Wanted? Maybe even… He shook himself figuratively, what the hell was going on?

“Sorry, Jack let me explain. Well, as best I can and do try to remember not to move. You are currently lying behind some tea chests about two meters from here bleeding to death.”

“Right.”

“For some strange reason you threw yourself straight into the line of fire of eight guns.”

Again he felt that warmth and this time he admitted the sensation was far from unpleasant.

“Fortunately, only one of the people holding those guns had any sense of autonomy so you only have one bullet hole rather than a full set of eight. This is good except I’m fairly sure it’s a head wound and those can be tricky.”

“Yes, often tricky,” he repeated, “though it can’t be that bad seeing as I’m able to talk to you.”

“True, the fact we are communicating would normally be a good sign but of course you know we’re not talking. Because we’re lying here playing dead and your body is lying over there very close to being dead.”

“Right.”

“I can tell you haven’t fully appreciated what I am telling you.”

“How?”

“Because I can feel your disbelief, Jack.”

“What?” That hit to her head must have done more damage than he had hoped, she wasn’t making any sense.

“I can’t explain what happened, Jack but whilst I was lying here working on an escape plan I started to see images, of us, well mainly me. I think they were from your subconscious. At first it was rather pleasant but then things started to get muddled.”

“What?”

“I…”

This time he felt surrounded by something more akin to an ache, a deep, seemingly endless ache.

“…I think you’re dying, Jack.”

He recognised that ache and an image of her lying dead in Gertie’s car formed in his mind.

“Is that how you felt, Jack? I… I never really understood till now. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. I should have had better control of myself, you never asked for me to fall in love with you.”

“But I did, Jack. I did ask you to fall in love with me – not then but not long after.”

He raised a metaphorical eyebrow, “Did you? I must have missed that announcement.”

She chuckled, “There you go again. Did I mention how much I adore your sense of humour?”

“I’m glad there’s still something about me that you like.”

“Don’t, Jack. I can’t bear the way you feel when you think like that.”

“You’ve lost me again,” he admitted.

“Sorry, let me try again. I’ve been lying here thinking about things and now you’ve woken up - I’m almost certain.”

“Almost certain about what?”

“That you’re here in my body with me. I don’t know how or why but you’re here with me.”

“Right.”

She chuckled, “Don’t make me laugh out loud, if he realises we’re conscious we’ll be in more trouble than we already are.”

“Sorry, the last thing I want is for you to be hurt.”

“I know, Jack. Those images I saw? It’s very humbling you know, to find out that someone cares that deeply for you.”

“I don’t care for you, Phryne. I love you.”

The moment he said this warmth flowed through and around him at a whole other level to what he had experienced before and he realised it was coming from her.

“I love you too, Jack.”

“Right.”

He felt the warmth dissipate, the cold building into something hard and unyielding.

“Why do you continue to insist that you know how I feel, better than I do?” She sounded both sad and annoyed at the same time. “Would it make you happy, Jack? To know that I took your advice and have been interviewing for a new sleeping companion?”

Images flashed across his mind of Phryne embracing a variety of men.

“I can see your taste in men hasn’t improved, there’s really something to be said for quality over quantity. Hang on, was that Geoffrey Caldwell?”

She was somewhat taken aback at his response but chose not to show it, “Oh you recognised Geoffrey? We met at dance a few weeks ago, went back to his yacht and made mad passionate and very active love until dawn. He has fantastic stamina. I’m thinking of keeping him around,” she taunted.

“Why, Phryne?”

She could sense his confusion and inability to understand her decision.

“Why would you choose Caldwell when both his friends are far more attractive and equally available?”

“What?” she was stunned. “Jack Robinson, I cannot believe that, in addition to all your other sins, you now believe you can pass judgment on the attractiveness of the men I choose to sleep with. Are you actually listening to yourself?”

There was silence and then he laughed (metaphorically) “My God, you’re right. When did I turn into a self-appointed arbiter of all things Phryne?”

For a while they both enjoyed the easy companionship that had first brought them together, it was that same warm feeling with little shots of fizz through it, hinting at excitements still to be shared. Then he felt her withdraw and become sad.

“I don’t know, Jack – why it all started to go wrong. It felt like we argued all the time, nothing fit anymore. No matter how hard I tried.”

“I know.”

“And then you gave up.”

“What?”

“You gave up on us. You just walked away. Again. Only this time I did love you but you left anyway.”

The overwhelming sadness he felt then made it clear that she did in fact believe that he had chosen to end their relationship.

“But I didn’t Phryne, I thought you wanted me to go – that you had had enough of my boring pedantic nature and every other annoying habit I possess.”

And she could feel that he had indeed thought that she didn’t want him.

Realisation dawned on them, in the exact same moment, that neither of them had wanted to walk away, but both of them had. The revelation was quickly followed by disbelief.

“I have never heard of two such…” she started.

“…stubborn fools,” he finished.

“That was exactly what I was thinking,” she said.

“I know,” he replied.

They were quiet for a while just enjoying the warm happiness that the discovery of their shared idiocy produced.

Eventually she broke the silence, “Do you recall me mentioning the fact that you’re dying over there?”

“Vaguely.”

“Delightful though this new closeness between us has been – I’m not sure I want it to be a permanent arrangement.”

“I should think not, it will be very difficult for me to undertake my police duties in your heels.”

“I…”

“…adore my sense of humour? I know,” he hummed happily.

“I’m not sure that a Jack Robinson that can actually read my thoughts is to be encouraged,” she teased, “unless... I’m going to attempt to show you something. Do try to be open to it, Jack.”

Intrigued he let his mind go blank. He immediately saw an image of himself in a bathroom speaking, ‘I plan to make this town…’, then on a train though the image seemed very focused on his eyes and lips, then at Janey’s grave, then at a football match, then comforting Rosie before turning up at Wardlow making promises of things to come. But it was also the way he saw himself. Noticing all of his small expressions and quirks, and feeling happy about them… gazing into his eyes and wanting to drown in them… It was like he saw himself enhanced by an aura of appreciation. Then he heard her say, “Can you see it Jack? How much I love you. Do you believe me now?”

“Yes,” he said, feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

“Thank goodness. It was getting quite ridiculous my having to argue that I knew my own mind.”

“So, about my dying, or rather _hopefully not dying_ over there by the tea chests.”

She was instantly alert.

“Do you have a plan by any chance, Phryne?”

He could feel her reluctance.

“You’re planning on seducing our jailer aren’t you?”

“Jack, I’m sorry. I know how much you hate it but there really is no other way. Think of it like trying to do a job - knowing you have the perfect tool for the task but refusing to use it. And women have so few weapons, if you take this away from me, Jack… you make me weaker.”

He thought about what she had told him, analysing her past actions in the light of this new information, “I never considered it that way. I think… I think I understand. If you don’t mind though, I’ll just go find a corner and not watch.”

*****

Phryne began to make quiet muffled noises followed by the slow movement of her head. “Where am I? What happened?” she whispered hoarsely. As she tried to lever herself up she realised that her wrists and ankles were bound, though fortunately not together. She shimmied her body and was relieved by the flow of blood this prompted.

“Awake are we darlin’?”

The man’s voice was rough but not unattractive.

_‘Easily said when the bar isn’t that high.’_

_‘I thought you were finding a corner.’_

_‘Turns out you are short on corners in here. Sorry, I’ll try to keep my thoughts to myself.’_

_‘That would be much appreciated - some of us are actually working.’_

“Who are you?” Phryne said in her best 'little girl in need of help' voice.

The man crouched down to help her sit up.

_‘My God, I can’t believe that actually works.’_

_‘Shush!’_

“Come on darlin’ you took a couple of hard knocks to the head so best take it careful,” he said as reached down to untie her ankles and helped her to stand. Jack clearly did not appreciate the way his hands lingered on her lower legs. 

Strong hands held her steady so Phryne let her eyes flutter closed and her head loll forward, “My hands, I can’t feel my hands,” she whispered so soft that he had to lean right in and was therefore surrounded by her French perfume.

“What was that darlin’?”

She repeated her words but this time let her head fall on to his shoulder. She ignored the gasp from Jack at her blatant move.

“You know, you’re one hell of a good looking woman even with that split lip,” their captor said appreciatively.

She spoke into his neck, letting her breath tickle his sensitive skin, “Can you untie my hands? I think my circulation has been cut off. Feel my fingers they’re cold,” she pulled back reaching up to run her fingers down his cheek and watching the lust build in his eyes.

_‘Phryne…’ Jack growled._

_‘Relax, I know what I’m doing. Trust me.’_

“What will you do with those hands if I untie them?”

She looked him directly in the eye, “Whatever you want.” She squirmed when he reached for her breast, remembering at the last moment to change it to a seductive wiggle. Jack’s anger was tangible but he refrained from speaking.

Grinning the man began to untie her hands.

_‘Phryne, can I…’_

_‘Yes.’_

As soon as her right hand was free, Jack swung it back and throwing all of her weight into it knocked the man straight down. He lay on the ground unconscious.

“I didn’t like him very much,” Jack said.

“I wasn’t that keen on him myself,” she shook her hand which was smarting. Crouching down beside the man she quickly bound his hands and feet.

Jack watched her rope skills appreciatively, “You weren’t making it up about that Portuguese sailor, were you?”

She smiled and in a tone brimming with dark promise said, “You should see what I can do when it’s someone that I actually like.”

Jack swallowed, hard. 

Job done she moved swiftly to Jack’s body by the tea chests, “It looks as though it’s just a graze,” she said with relief as she reached for his wrist to take his pulse. “That’s good too, so I’m not sure why you’re still unconscious.” She looked around the room and then back at Jack’s inert body and he could feel her panic rising.

“You have to leave me, Phryne.”

“Never.”

“Yes. When you get out you can send back help. I’ll be alright.”

“No. You don’t know that,” she glanced across to where their erstwhile captor lay, “he could wake up at any minute and if they find me gone they could decide to take it out on you.”

“If you stay he could wake up at any minute, alert the others and they could all take it out on you. We need to go Phryne – now.”

She nodded, his suggestion made sense. And so, with one last glance back at the body of the man she loved she headed to the door, with the man she loved. “This is getting very confusing, Jack.”

“You’re telling me,” he replied, struggling with the complexity of her emotions, “I think it would be easier if you just concentrate on getting us out of here.”

She put her ear to the door, listening. “I don’t know where we are, I was unconscious when they brought me here. Since I woke up though no one else has come into the room and I don’t think anyone is outside.” She reached for the door handle, “Wish us luck, Jack,” she said as she turned the knob.

“Luck.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

“Sorry, Phryne – I think that was me.”

“It would be helpful if you didn’t do things like starve me of oxygen, I never know when I might need it,” she admonished him playfully, “for screaming and other feminine wiles.”

“Sorry.”

She looked out into the corridor, “That’s fine, Jack. I don’t expect that, after less than an hour, you would comprehend all the necessities to which we women are pushed. After all, it has taken me almost an entire lifetime to master them. It looks empty,” she paused, “and I can’t hear anything. Do we go left or right, I wonder?” 

“Go right, there’s a hint of a breeze coming from there.”

She sniffed the air and held her hand up. “There’s really so much more to you, Jack – then just a pretty face,” she quipped as she turned to the right and headed up the corridor.

Jack chuckled, “I think you’ll find there’s not even a pretty face at the moment but I appreciate the sentiment none-the-less.” 

_‘I adore you’_ she didn’t say it but it surrounded him and washed through him.

“Umm, thank you?” he said, fully aware of the inadequacy of these words.

She smiled. She stopped at the foot of a metal staircase that was so steep she wondered if it was really better described as a ladder. “What do you think?”

An image of her shoes flashed across her mind. “I think it’s going to make one hell of a racket,” he said.

“I am not wearing cerise shoes, Jack. They are quite clearly fuchsia.” A corrected image was displayed.

“My apologies, Miss Fisher – for not paying full attention, there was a lot going on at the time.”

She slipped her shoes off, “Yes, we really ought to find a moment to discuss that.”

“I certainly have one or two points I’d appreciate enlightenment on – like why you’re dressed as a gangster’s moll and wandering through my carefully constructed covert operation?”

“My services have been retained by a concerned parent… Christ, how cold is this metal?”

“Freezing - maybe you should have left your shoes on? What is the nature of the parent’s concerns?”

“A daughter who is blissfully unaware of the real nature of her beau.” An image of Rogers with his arm around the waist of a young woman.

“Really? The man can barely talk, you must have noticed his annoying diction?”

“Yes, Jack – I’m sure that’s exactly the reason her father objects to him.”

Jack grumbled, “Well, affected speech patterns are as valid a reason to object as any. What kind of person chooses to speak like that?”

“It could be a lisp.”

“It is not a lisp. And why are you defending him?”

“Because it amuses me to see you this wound up about the way a man chooses to talk.”

There was a silence. Then laughter. “I am an absolute prig sometimes, aren’t I?”

“Just a little bit.” She had almost reached the top of the stairs, “Right, let’s see what we dealing with.” She came to a stop, listening. “No sounds, that’s good.” She carefully peeked up, finding a huge warehouse like room. “No one around, equally good. Do you have any idea where we are?”

All levity was gone from Jack’s voice, “Yes, and we need to get out of here right now.”

“It may have escaped your notice but that is exactly what I’m trying to do. As you recognise our location, any insights on the quickest way out?”

“Go right.”

“Another breeze?”

“No, this time it’s the result of a month’s careful planning of an armed assault on Roger’s drug distribution warehouse at sunrise. And the reason why I had him under surveillance last night. You do not want to be in the middle of this Phryne.”

She glanced at the windows, luckily it was still dark outside but that could change very quickly. “At least it will make getting you help easier.”

“Small mercies.”

“At this stage I’ll take every advantage we can get.” She climbed up the last of the stairs. “Tell me about the layout of the warehouse.”

“The foreman always sleeps with the goods.”

She looked around, there were boxes everywhere but the majority were straight in front of her, by the exit. She stopped walking.

“Good idea,” Jack said, “The workers will be in rooms behind us.”

“Hmm, aren’t these places supposed to have at least one alternative exit?”

“He’s a drug baron, Phryne. I don’t think building regulations is high on his list of priorities.”

“Of course it is. People doing illegal things almost always over comply with the small legalities. The last thing he needs is an over zealous building inspector nosing around.” She headed away from the exit. “Trust me, Jack.”

“I do,” he responded, “with my life. Literally as it turns out.”

Another warm blast surrounded him.

“Maybe you should stop doing that. It’s very distracting.”

“I can’t help it. It’s how you make me feel.”

“Oh.” He struggled with the knowledge that these feelings were involuntary on her part. “That’s nice.” Great, another inadequate statement and he had the gall to rail at Rogers lack of articulation.

“It doesn’t matter, Jack. I can feel what you mean.”

“Oh.” Somehow it had not occurred to him that this was a two way street. “When you think of me it’s like I’m surrounded by warmth. Is that what you feel, when I think of you?” he asked shyly.

“Sometimes. Other times it’s sad, achingly sad and alone. To be very clear, I prefer the warm feeling and would like you to concentrate on that more.”

“Right.” He thought for a moment. “How do I do that?”

“Try saying I love you, you fool.”

“I love you Phryne Fisher, you fool.”

This time he could actually feel her delight and it was one of the most intoxicating things he had ever experienced.

“I really think you’re getting the hang of this, Jack.”

He smiled.

“Have I ever told you what a beautiful man you are?” she asked as she moved quietly searching the walls in the dim light for anything that looked remotely like an exit. 

He blushed.

“Whatever expression you have on your face.” Suddenly hundreds of images of him flew across his mind. “But the one I love the most is when you smile. You do it so rarely that it’s something to be treasured.” The images stopped on one of him smiling, he thought it was fairly early on in their friendship, perhaps when he had invited her to call him Jack.

“I look like the village idiot.”

“You look adorable.” She came to a stop. “I think that’s it. That’s the exit. Bugger.”

They looked at boxes stacked two wide and six high in front of the door.

“Bugger,” he agreed.

“I can’t even reach the top one,” she pointed out rather unnecessarily.

“No,” he confirmed.

She walked around the boxes, carefully surveying the problem from as many angles as she could find. “Feel free to share your thoughts at any time, Jack.”

“I will, as soon as I come up with any,” he promised.

She leaned on the boxes.

“Careful, Phryne. If those come down it will make a hell of a racket.”

“What time do you think it is?”

Jack thought for a moment. A lifetime of stakeouts, and before that being on watch over no man’s land, had gifted him a fairly accurate internal clock. “I think it’s about thirty minutes before sun rise.”

“Will your men be outside already?”

“Yes, Collins should be doing the final set up.”

“Good.”

“I don’t think I like where this is going.”

“No, I don’t suspect you do,” she agreed, “There’s something about my plans that you find intrinsically unlike-able.”

“Yes, it’s the part where nearly every one has a fair to middling chance of you dying.”

“So, here is the plan. I’m going to push these boxes down to clear the door, this will wake up everyone in here and also alert the police outside to something unusual. Whilst people are trying to gather their thoughts I am going to slip out the door and find Collins. He will then bring the men in to arrest this lot and get you the medical attention you require. What do you think?”

“I like the plan,” he said surprising her immensely. “I like the part where you have ignored the possibility that the boxes fail to co-operate and either fall on you or don’t clear the door – either way trapping you with a warehouse full of sleepy but angry criminals with guns. Another particular favourite is where you run in the dark towards twenty nervous policemen with guns.” He was quiet for a second before grumbling, “And don’t even start me on what will happen if the key isn’t in the door.”

She reached up to take off the blonde wig, “I do think it is best not to get too caught up in the details, Jack.” Ruffling her dark hair into some semblance of it’s normal style she continued, “You did say Hugh was out there? Lets hope he recognises me.”

Jack hoped it too with every atom of his being.

“I’ll be fine, Jack. And if I’m not… well, at least we’ll be together.”

“That’s not as comforting as you obviously intended it to be. Let’s have another look at those boxes – we need to work out the best place to push.”

Five minutes later they were both in agreement and Phryne was in place. “Right, remember don’t hold my breath, I’m going to need every bit of it for running and calling out to Hugh.”

“You can do it Phryne – I know you can.”

She felt his faith and pride in her abilities envelop her. “Jack, that’s amazing. I never realised you felt like that, about what I do.”

“You are the most capable person I’ve ever met. Now go!” 

*****

Phryne placed her hands at the agreed spot and pushed with all her might, stepping back quickly when she felt the boxes begin to fall. With a quick glance over her shoulder she reached for the door, kicking the last box out of the way and wrenching it open. “Don’t shoot Hugh! It’s me, it’s Phryne,” she shouted out into the darkness as she ran, aware of sleepy people stumbling around behind her.

“Miss Fisher?”

She could have cried, her relief was so great. “Yes, Hugh. It’s me. Don’t shoot.”

She heard him call out “Hold your fire, it’s Miss Fisher.” And then he ran out towards her and she collapsed gratefully into his arms. “Are you alright, Miss?”

_‘Remind me to get that man a pay rise.’_

“Jack! Hugh, Jack is unconscious in the building. We need to get in there quickly,” she pulled herself out of his arms and turned back to the building.

“We will Miss, we’ll go in now whilst they’re in disarray.” He looked around at his men, “Smith!” he called out to one of the men, “round the front and tell them to go in – now!” To the rest he waved his arm “Go, go!” Turning back to Phryne he said “Stay with me, Miss and we’ll find the Inspector.”

It took less than ten minutes for Hugh and his men to subdue the occupants of the building. Woken rudely from their slumber and confused they were quickly overcome by the police. Then two of the policemen carried a still unconscious Jack out and into a waiting ambulance. An exhausted Phryne climbed in beside him, almost snarling at the medic who suggested she release his hand.

_‘Jack, we’ve done it!’ she was triumphant._

_‘You did it.’_

_‘No, we’re a team, Jack, the best of teams.’_

_‘You don’t need me, Phryne,’ he insisted._

There was something in his tone that made her look properly at his body in front of her.

_‘You’re a nurse, Phryne, you know the signs.’_

_‘NO’_

_‘It’s alright I…’_

_‘Shut up, Jack! That is not going to happen.’_

She grabbed hold of the medic with her free hand, “You need to do something.”

He shook his head, “I’m sorry ma’am there’s nothing obvious that I can treat. Head injuries can be tricky.”

She looked back at Jack, “His condition is getting worse, his skin is clammy and his breathing is shallow. He’s slipping into shock.”

The medic nodded.

“Please? There must be something you can do.”

He looked at the fierce woman then down to where she clasped the hand of the rapidly deteriorating man. He knew they might not make it to the hospital in time. He stood up and reached for a vial, filling a syringe. “I could lose my job for doing this.” The renewed hope in her eyes was probably worth it he thought as he prepared a vein. She looked up her question obvious. He shook his head, “Don’t ask, it helps with unresponsive patients - sometimes.” The needle pierced Jack’s skin. 

_‘It’s alright, Jack, you’re going to be alright.’_

There was silence.

_‘Jack? Are you there? Jack?’_

She felt bereft. And then, as the syringe emptied into his vein, she prayed so hard it would put even Dot to shame.

“Jack, can you hear me?”

She saw him stir.

“Blink, Jack, blink twice if you can hear me.”

Whilst it wasn’t exactly a blink it was close enough for her to collapse in relief across his chest. “Jack, I thought I’d lost you.” She felt his arm rise to rest on her back. 

“Miss Fisher, you’re making it hard for me to breathe,” he managed in a croaky voice. 

*****

Mr Butler listened with amusement as Miss Fisher walked across from the parlour, opened the door and stared out into the street for a while before shutting it. For the hundredth time. He was unaccustomed to her displaying such nervousness. It was endearing. Especially given the Inspector was the reason. The man hadn’t been back to Wardlow for a month and then there had been some excitement in a warehouse and he had been shot. And now a day later he was coming back to Wardlow to complete his recovery. It was a satisfying outcome. 

The door bell rung and Miss Fisher beat him to it. He smiled to see the Inspector, sitting uncomfortably in a wheel chair being pushed, pulled and otherwise maneuvered up the steps by Bert and Cec. “I’m perfectly capable of walking,” the Inspector whined, his frustration showing.

“And have Miss Fisher yell at us for letting you overstretch yourself? No chance,” Bert growled back.

She spoke then, making them aware of her presence for the first time. “Quite right, Bert. The doctor was very clear in his instructions, Jack – you require, and will receive, complete rest. Now just behave whilst they get you in the house.”

Mr Butler thought the Inspector might kick up a fuss but instead he just smiled up at Miss Fisher.

“Bring him into the parlour, please Bert,” she asked. 

“I gotta tell you he’s not going to be a great patient,” Bert warned Mr Butler as he passed him.

The elder man smiled. “I’m sure we’ll get on just fine, won’t we Inspector?”

“Of course, Mr Butler,’ the Inspector responded politely.

Bert snorted, deposited his troublesome package where instructed, slapped his cap on his head and left with Cec beside him. Mr Butler followed them out to bring in afternoon tea. As he was returning with the tray he heard Miss Fisher speaking.

“I do love you, Jack.”

Mr Butler froze. It was not uncommon for those words to precede an argument. As he waited for the Inspector to reply he glanced at the front door grateful that the hinges and putty had been declared sound a few days earlier.

“I know,” said the Inspector.

At the sound of Miss Fisher’s delighted laugh Mr Butler cleared his throat and entered the room. It would appear they had finally knocked off those rough edges.


End file.
